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About Los Angeles

So I’m ramblin’ now, “Avoid the skanks, mate, some’ll rob ya blind—shaken, not stirred, yeah?” He’s edgin’ to the door, clutchin’ his wallet like it’s gold. I yell after him, “Don’t be a wanker, wrap it up!” Total Bond move, savin’ his arse. Reckon he’ll end up lost, like Bill Murray, mumblin’, *“What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?”*—but with hookers instead of teppanyaki. What a plonker. Me? I’m back to beepin’ cans, dreamin’ of Tokyo nights.

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But if you want a non-tranny, drug-addicted female hooker, you have to travel to the stretch of 34th Street just north and south of Central Avenue. This area.

Westchase is alive. Bissonnet sneaks up on ya with wild surprises. There's our cozy parks – like North Fwy Park, and dunno, some secret green patch by Eldridge, just to chill. I get a rush seein' these spots after a day's grind. People passin by, gossipin', and I think, "Man, we're all recollections, like water on a river."

Westchase community split on $1M elementary crosswalk plan